


Whose heart doth hold the Christmas glow Hath little need of Mistletoe

by carolbunch (pinklemonadelesbian)



Category: Friends (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, Mistletoe, if only they had more scenes together lol, rachel and chandler wld have been super friends, ross is eh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-15 20:35:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13038927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinklemonadelesbian/pseuds/carolbunch
Summary: the one where chandler kisses joey under the mistletoe, and rachel is a great friend.





	Whose heart doth hold the Christmas glow Hath little need of Mistletoe

**Author's Note:**

> uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh im high on caffeine yo. also internalized homophobia DOESNT EXIST because i dont want to write that. ok? ok.
> 
> also ill fix any mistakes later im just real tired rn

The lights are down low and everything has a soft red and green and gold glow about it; all of their guests are gone, have been gone for an hour at the least, and the quiet is broken only by Monica and Ross’s familiar bickering and Phoebe and Rachel’s giggles. They’re playing some sort of game on the floor. Chandler isn’t exactly sure what it is, or if even they know what it is, but he thinks it’s sweet. He thinks  _they’re_ sweet, and yeah that’s kind of sappy but it’s _Christmas_ , and it actually  _feels_ like it is for once.

 

Chandler sighs, content, and Joey—who is sprawled across Chandler (who is lying on the sofa) and has his arm wrapped around Chandler’s waist, his face pressed against his abdomen—mumbles something intelligible, and tightens his hold on Chandler. Chandler sighs again. This is— _nice_ , even if it burns.

 

Joey grumbles again and lifts his head, trying for a glare, but his eyes are too sleepy and sweet to look any kind of menacing, so Chandler just smiles at him, affectionate. He’s allowed this, this fondness, even if only for this day. It’s _ok_ , he tells himself, and he  _believes_ it.

 

Joey smiles back at him, just for a second, dopey and warm, before he pulls his lips back into a frown. Chandler almost laughs—he just looks so _funny_ like this, grumpy and sleepy and, well, _sweet_ —and then he squashes it, and then he thinks, _oh, what the hell! It’s Christmas!_ And laughs anyways. Joey purses his lips like he’s trying not laugh, and shakes his head. He looks like a crotchety old man, and Chandler just laughs harder.

“ _Chandler_ ,” Joey says, whines, “‘M trying to sleep here.”

 

Chandler just grins, pokes his side where he knows Joey’s extra ticklish, and watches as he fights to suppress his laughter. It’s a lost cause, and a giggle bubbles out of him unbidden. Chandler feels his heart swell with pride and affection (three sizes bigger than usual, he thinks, and then laughs at his own joke), and he cards his fingers through Joey’s hair, like he’s been doing for the last half hour.

“Then go find somewhere to sleep, Joe. I’m not a mattress, and I’m sure Rachel wouldn’t mind if you took her bed until we go home.”

 

Rachel twists around when she hears her name and gives him a _look_. It says _I have no idea what you said but the answer is still_ ** _no_** , and he’s about to give her a look that says something like _Thank god I didn’t want Joey to leave anyway_ , when Joey interrupts him with another whine.

“But you’re _comfortable_ ,” he says, and Chandler grins. It might be coy, it might be flirtatious, and Chandler couldn’t care less.

“Why, Mr. Tribbiani!” He exclaims, batting his eyelashes, “I’m flattered!” So, Chandler might be a little tipsy. He might be a little drunk actually, might have a hangover tomorrow, but it’s all good because it’s Christmas and he feels warm and floaty and hazy, and like he’s on top of the world, like nothing could ever bring him down again.

 

Joey’s smiling at him now, despite himself, and it’s got this  _quality_ —warm and fond and inviting—that makes Chandler’s heart beat faster. Not out of fear, but exhilaration. It’s _good_. It’s _so_ good.

 

All of their friends are staring at them now, because Chandler said that kind of loudly; Ross looks confused, while Phoebe and Monica look mildly interested, but Rachel looks  _knowing_. It should scare the shit out of Chandler. It should make him run. It should feel probing and  _invasive_ , but instead it’s warm and gentle, and it makes Chandler feel… Loved. Accepted. Like, everything’s gonna be ok, ‘cause Rachel’s got his back, no matter what happens now.

 

Chandler smiles at her, and she smiles back, and then she leans forward and whispers something to Ross.

“ _What!_ ” Ross yells loudly, and he gives Chandler a weird look, like he’s trying to say something, but Chandler has no idea what it is. Ross isn’t great with expressions. He kind of always looks constipated. “No way! Nuh-uh! _Not_ happening!”

 

Rachel just rolls her eyes, and shoots Chandler a look that says  _could he_ ** _be_** _any more immature?_ And Chandler raises his eyebrows at her like, _it’s Ross, what were you expecting?_ And she shrugs, giving him a half grin. Then she gets up and stumbles towards him, swaying slightly on her feet.

“Woah,” she says, dazed, blinking and grinning like a fool. Chandler thinks he might be, too.

He feels something rumbling in his chest, and it’s _weird_ because he’s not laughing, and then he realizes it’s Joey, who is looking at him so fond, so sweet, that it  _aches_. It’s ok, though, ‘cause it’s a good kind of ache.

 

He opens his mouth to say something, something stupid, probably, when Rachel leans down and whispers something in his ear that makes him smile. _Beam_ , actually. He can feel it stretching across his face. He looks like an idiot, probably. He doesn’t care at all.

“Yeah, ok,” he says, wriggling an arm free of Joey to squeeze Rachel’s hand. “Thanks for asking, Rach.”

 

She smiles at him like it’s obvious she would, and maybe it is, but it makes him happy anyways.

She trots away happily, and Chandler turns his attention back to Joey, who looks curious. Chandler smiles at him and moves his hand from his hair to his neck, stroking it gently.

“You’ll see,” he says warmly, and Joey sighs contentedly, closing his eyes. Their friends are staring at them again, Chandler can feel it, and Ross is making sputtering, affronted noises, but Chandler doesn’t care at all. And neither does Joey, from the looks of it. In fact, he’s moving forward, and Chandler’s thinking  _ok, this is it, finally_ , when Rachel comes running out of her room.

“Aha!” She exclaims triumphantly, before she spots Joey, who is looking at her exasperatedly.

“Oh no!” She exclaims, jabbing her finger in their direction. “Don’t you dare, Mister! Not without this!” She’s waving a shriveled up… _something_ at them. Chandler can’t help but laugh, and Joey’s frowning at the two of them, and Rachel comes over, grinning, and holds the sprig in her hand over their heads.

“Ok, Joey,” she says, “You can kiss him now.”

 

Joey’s just staring up at the  _thing_ , all squinty and frowny and adorable, and Chandler can’t stop smiling. His face is gonna get stuck like this. That wouldn’t be so bad, though.

“Is that… Mistletoe?” He asks finally, and Chandler squeezes his forearm with the hand that isn’t resting on his neck.

“Yeah,” he says, “Is that ok, Joe?”

 

Joey looks down at him, then, and he’s smiling again, that  _look_ back in his eyes.

“It’s perfect,” he’s saying, and then Chandler is tugging him forward, and they’re _kissing_. _Finally_. And it’s not like everything fades away; he’s aware of his friends’ eyes on them, he can hear Ross’s grumbling, but it just doesn’t _matter_. _Joey_ is really the only thing that matters right now, Joey and his gentleness and his tenderness and his warmth, and the way his hand comes up to stroke Chandler’s cheek, and the sweetness of his mouth. It feels like their 100th kiss, not their second, and it’s _good_. It’s what Chandler’s been wanting since last New Year’s Eve.

 

Chandler finds himself tracing the knobs of Joey’s spine, and Joey murmurs something approving against his lips, and Chandler  _grins_ , and he’s so happy that when they finally break apart he has to take a deep breath, just to steady himself. And because they’d spent a long time kissing and he needs to breathe. But that’s really just an afterthought.

 

He turns to his friends, finally, studying their expressions intently, and he  _is_ a little nervous now. It’s ok though, because he can feel the weight of Joey pressing him down into the couch, and the hand still cupping his cheek, and it’s comforting.

 

Ross is looking shocked, maybe, a little horrified, maybe, and it… _hurts_ , yeah, but the other two look accepting, and Rachel (who had moved back to her seat on the ground when they started kissing) looks proud, so it’s not totally terrible. Chandler smiles, then, and his nerves must show, ‘cause Rachel smiles. Gentle. Reassuring. Kind. Quiet. A year ago, several months ago even, he would have thought it was strange to be sharing this kind of moment with her, but now he can’t imagine it  _without_ her. They’d accidentally fallen into a sort of closeness he didn’t really have with anyone else, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

Chandler opens his mouth to say… something, he isn’t sure what, when Joey drags his thumb down to Chandler’s lips.

“Hey, you,” Chandler says warmly, and Joey says nothing. Instead, he’s studying his lips intently, looking like he wants to kiss Chandler again but isn’t sure if he’s allowed to. Which is ridiculous, really, so of course Chandler leans forward and kisses him again. It’s nothing, really, just a peck, but it’s inviting and Joey sighs against his mouth and sinks into his arms like, like—like he’s _home_ , and that should make Chandler roll his eyes or something, but he doesn’t care how cheesy he sounds right now.

  
Chandler grins into the kiss and Joey grins back, and then he’s kissing everywhere and anywhere he can reach—Chandler’s cheeks, the corners of his mouth, his nose, his eyes, his forehead, and his lips, again, again, again—and Chandler is laughing and laughing and laughing and he can’t stop, and he’s never felt this _good_ in his entire, _goddamn_ life.


End file.
